As much as I would like to think I am not my mother, mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all.
However, I would like to think I am wrapped in a slightly different package.
But the undercarriage?
Yeah, pretty much the same.
I feel like I give her same aggressive tutorials, but with a touch more lipstick, and sunglasses that match.
My version has me convinced that perhaps I am cuter at it?
Or maybe not.
Delusion is not a foreign concept around these parts.
What I will say is that my mother was full of wisdom, and 99% of it true; she just happened to deliver it from the hip, and without a filter in sight.
An approach that I didn't want to accept, but one I currently miss dearly.
To know her, was to fear her, but also to love her.
The stories she provided for future generations, endless.
She was one of a kind.
Harsh, but full of heart.
As mother's day approaches, I find myself wanting her unsolicited advice back, who would have ever thought?!?
A concept you could have mentioned even a few years ago that would have made my blood boil.
I knew WAY more than she did, DUH.
Jesus, I wonder how we as children can be so dumb and unappreciative in the presence of those who are trying to guide us earnestly, while wearing their heart on their sleeves, and rebuff it with gusto, and then some.
Oh wait, I am trying to do the same for my three who have apparently have already graduated from the school of life and therefore, know more than yours truly.
Shoot me, yeah, karma...
Now, I look back at the many stories and experiences she provided me with, and realize that she created some of the best lore and legend I could have ever imagined, while also offering the best advice and wisdom one could wish for.
She truly was one of a kind.
A sort of special I can only say, I took for granted, and then some.
What can I say?
Kids are assholes.
Yep, I am raising my hand here.
Yet, I can only hope to have my kids feel the same way about me as I do about my own mother one day.
I wish for them to be able to rekindle and admire a version of me that they, GASP, took for granted.
A mom who may not have been perfect, but one who laid down all of her knowledge at their altars, to provide them with the tools they need, to live this thing called, life.
I want for them to know that I fully acknowledge that my parenting skills may not always be deemed perfect, but that I was persistent, patient, sprinkled them with a healthy dose of patronizination, and that overall, it came from a place over flowing with love.
A place that pursued and continued to proceed, even when it faced their resistance.
As I regale my own stories about my mother, I now know she created the same firecracker that she was, in me.
She was a spectacle that continues to shine and sparkle in the legacy that she left.
One which I refuse to stop sharing.
So on this upcoming mother's day, may we all celebrate the mother's who raised us, and put us in our respective places, but who also taught us to be the commanders we are; without us even knowing it was happening.
As much as I was convinced that we were so different, well apparently, I now have come to realize, we weren't.
As I was busy raising mutiny, you were hard at work raising a future mother.
Mea culpas are hard.
But to say Happy Mother's Day to you isn't.
So Mom, slainte!
C
.
This weekend I will pour some out some pinot grigio in your honor.
And as per your sage advice, I will not go out to any restaurant on actual Mother's Day because it will be overpriced and way too crowded.
Brunches are overrated anyways.
See?!
I did listen after all!
Know it wasn't all in vain.
Big kisses and even bigger hugs.
Xoxo,
C.
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